How do I forgive alleged radio personalities and former NBA players who were never in sniffing distance of MVP contention for claiming Jokic lacks the excitement factor to get the casual fan to tune into the NBA Finals?
Assume they secretly sleep in Steph Curry jammies that squeeze whatever purported nuts they have left for refusing to give credit to the Serbian white nationalist over King of the Persecution Complex, AKA, Line Drive Chucker.
Jokic’s vertical is whiter than white man’s disease, whoopty freaking do.
Larry Bird was still mesmerizing to watch, so was Reggie Miller, even Steph Curry’s father if I’m an extra generous mood, knowing the former 6th Man of the Year barley left the ground either. His honeymoon bed definitely achieved blast off more than he did from the three-point line. But unless your mom is hot enough to win Miss Washington Heights and charge the price of Hamilton tickets in exchange for some high-end chlamydia, chuck the Steph Curry jersey in the trash. Unless you identify with Steph Curry because you have plenty of experience high stepping over the shit lined streets of San Franscisco. Unmoving Morons, challah, thank you very much.
Is my salty personality impossible to subdue in this instance?
Jokic lacks the excitement factor. But he’s the joker. Didn’t he accuse BLM of calling Turbo Tax, culturally biased software?
Jokic’s team swept Lebron’s Lakers after they beat Golden State, but I’m supposed to think he lacks the excitement factor? The NBA no longer exists as a safe space for Lebron’s ego, now that it’s punctured forever. What’s more exciting than that? Unmoving morons, challah, thank you very much.